In the Line of Duty
by kyrdwyn
Summary: The last surviving member of the NX-01 Senior Staff speaks at the funeral of a friend.


Title: In the Line of Duty  
  
Author: kyrdwyn  
  
Warning: Multiple Death Fic.  
  
Rating: R (implied M/M)  
  
Pairing: Tucker/Reed  
  
Status: Complete, 1/1,  
  
Warning: Multiple Death Fic.  
  
Spoilers: Broken Bow, Silent Enemy (minor)  
  
Betas: MJ, Red, and Helyn Highwater  
  
Author's Archive: Pineapples, Pecans and Porthos (http://www.geocities.com/toxicrev/nx01home.html)  
  
Author's Final Warning: This is a Multiple Death Fic!  
  
// denotes thoughts.  
  
~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~  
  
"Admiral Reed, sir?"  
  
Malcolm sighed and turned around to face the painfully young ensign standing behind him, looking nervous. "Yes, Ensign?" he asked with a sigh. They all seemed young these days, too eager and impulsive for his liking. Not unlike a certain Chief Engineer he'd once served with.  
  
"It's time, sir."  
  
Another sigh, this one deeper and more heartfelt. He did not want to do this; he didn't think he could do this. But he had to. He was the only one left who could.  
  
He nodded for the ensign to lead the way and followed him down the halls to the observation deck of Jupiter Station. It seemed like only yesterday that he had stood here with his crewmates, listening to Admiral Forrest's speech before Enterprise launched on her first, fateful mission to Qo'nos.  
  
Now, he was the one standing at the podium, staring up at the small balcony where they had all stood. God, they had all been young then. Starfleet's best and brightest, out to make humanity's mark on the stars.  
  
The stars had made their mark on them, rather. The bloody Temporal Cold War had made sure of that. The Romulans had not helped either. Malcolm looked down at the podium, unable to bear seeing the ghosts that lingered there. He was just grateful that he didn't have to do this from the bridge of the Enterprise. That would have been way too difficult, even for his famous Reed Reserve.  
  
Looking over the crowd that was assembling, he saw very few familiar faces. Not surprising. He kept mostly to himself these days, running his own little fiefdom in Starfleet Weapons and Defense Research. He'd taken that posting after his ship, the Hawking, had been nearly destroyed by a Romulan torpedo their hull plating couldn't compensate for. In that time, he'd done a lot for Starfleet, and been promoted in return.  
  
Admiralty, though, still didn't make up for losing his friends during the war. It certainly didn't make up for the death of the love of his life, even if it was in the line of duty. It didn't make up for the years of loneliness and guilt, the nights of wondering why he was the only one to survive and railing at the universe for its cruelty.  
  
Malcolm looked back up to the balcony, knowing all eyes were now on him. //They can wait//, he thought uncharitably. //I'm certainly in no hurry to perform this last duty for a friend. When this is over, I truly will be the only one left.//  
  
The ghosts on the balcony were smiling at him encouragingly. They understood the pain this was causing. None of them would have wanted to be in his position now, and he knew that. Knew it as much as he wanted to be in their position, sparing them.  
  
He looked at each of the ghosts in turn, remembering the first and last time he'd seen them.  
  
Travis had been a young and enthusiastic ensign on a training mission Malcolm had been assigned to, acting as a shepherd for the trainees. They had become friends then, a friendship that had grown while on Enterprise. Malcolm had picked Travis for his first officer when he'd been given command of the Hawking. Commander Mayweather had died at the helm when the Romulan torpedo hit.  
  
Hoshi and T'Pol he'd met at the first senior staff meeting, just before ship's launch. He'd last seen Hoshi when they'd both had a brief bit of shore leave on Starbase 5. Lieutenant Commander Sato died when the Romulans had annihilated the listening post she'd been assigned to, trying to decode their military communiqués. Captain T'Pol and her Vulcan crew had tried to rescue any survivors of the listening post, and the Romulans had taken the act of mercy as an act of aggression. She'd survived the attack long enough to retreat to Vulcan space, but her injuries killed her less than a week later.  
  
He and Phlox met when Malcolm had overseen the security measures for transferring the Klingon Klaang to Enterprise. They'd kept in touch even after Malcolm had been promoted and transferred. The good doctor had died trying to save the life of a patient even as his ship had been blown apart around him.  
  
Trip - oh god, Trip. First seen at a meeting before the urgency to launch Enterprise, a meeting to discuss the integration of the engineering and weapons systems. Last seen on a viewscreen, whispering 'I love you' even as the shuttle he was in was being destroyed by a Romulan Warbird. Malcolm had to close his eyes at that memory, decades old and yet still having the power to bring him to tears. His heart still ached for his lover. That ache had prevented him from even consider another relationship. He couldn't betray Trip's memory that way.  
  
Looking up again, he saw the comforting smile of Jonathan Archer, his captain, his friend. A man he'd been nervous about meeting, because Malcolm's future could depend on his being picked for Enterprise. The man who'd helped Malcolm get on with his life after Trip's death. The man who'd been ambushed in a shuttlepod on his way back to Enterprise, and taken out at least one enemy ship before he'd been killed.  
  
Next to Archer was a ghost that hadn't been at the original launch ceremony, but had been part of the ship nonetheless. He, too, had been on the shuttlepod with Archer, loyal to his master to the end. Now Porthos stood at Archer's side, wagging his tail encouragingly at Malcolm.  
  
All of them, even Porthos, had been killed in the line of duty. Malcolm was the only one left. Ironic, that the one everyone figured would be the mostly likely to die in the line of duty, if only because of his position as Tactical and Security Officer, was the one to stay alive, to be here to perform this final act for the other survivor of that first and fateful mission into deep space.  
  
Enterprise herself.  
  
The NX-01 was being decommissioned, finally, after serving so long and so well. Though her new captain was fully capable of conducting the ceremony, Starfleet wanted the symmetry of one of her first crew laying her to rest.  
  
Sighing again, Malcolm looked at the assembled dignitaries. He looked up again at the ghosts who were waiting to hear what he had to say. //I miss you all,// he thought. //It should have been me.// He met the still clear, still young eyes of his love. //Soon, love. Soon.//  
  
Drawing in a breath, Malcolm began the ceremony, knowing that once the Enterprise was officially decommissioned, he would be the last. Perhaps then he would be able to put his demons to rest - the demons of being a survivor.  
  
//Soon,// he thought again, watching the screen as the Enterprise gracefully gave way to the explosive charges planted on her hull, leaving sparkling titanium motes in the void. Everything salvageable had been removed. This was all just for show. Her commissioning plaque hung in a place of honor at Starfleet Command, other technical items were being studied or transferred to new ships. This was just an empty shell, supposedly devoid of all that was valuable.  
  
Except that she still held a piece of Malcolm Reed's soul, the one that kept him anchored to this reality.  
  
As the ceremony ended, Admiral Reed spoke with a few people, listening to their comments about his remarks, about how touched they'd been by the way Malcolm had described his friends. //They're just legends to you,// he thought. //People you saw on the news or heard about in classes. They were my friends, and nothing I say can do them justice. Nothing I do will give them back the years they should have had, that we all should have had together.//  
  
Eventually, he was alone in the room, still watching the faint sparkles of what had been his first true home. Finally he turned to see his friends standing behind him, smiling. He smiled at them, glad his words had pleased them.  
  
Then Trip held out his hand, and Malcolm took it without thinking, needing to feel his love again. The others patted his shoulder or back as Trip pulled him into his arms and Malcolm sighed, happy to be home at last.  
  
~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~  
  
OFFICIAL STARFLEET COMMUNIQUÉ, FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE  
  
Jupiter Station, October 14, 2199  
  
Admiral Malcolm Reed, Chief of Starfleet's Weapons and Defense Research Division on Earth, died of natural causes last night in the Observation Room of Jupiter Station. Admiral Reed had been the last surviving member of the Senior Staff of the Enterprise, NX-01. He had presided at the ship's decommissioning ceremony just hours before his death.  
  
In addition to serving on the Enterprise as both a Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander, Admiral Reed served as Commander and First Officer of the Einstein, and was Captain of the Hawking prior to his transfer to Weapons and Defense Research.  
  
Admiral Reed received the Starfleet Medal of Honor for his bravery during the Romulan War and Starfleet Achievement Stars for his advances in hull shielding, force field technology, and torpedo technology.  
  
He is survived by his sister, Dr. Madeline Reed-Douglas of Oxford University; his nephew, Lieutenant Andrew Reed-Douglas, Armory Officer on the Intrepid; and his niece, Dr. Mary Reed-Douglas, an engineer on the Warp 7 project. 


End file.
